


Permutations

by MelindaCoulson4



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Confusion, F/M, Heartbreak, Sad, is he bad or good who knows?, who is this guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 03:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18380267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaCoulson4/pseuds/MelindaCoulson4
Summary: Melinda May is unprepared to face him again. The universe doesn't care.Set two months after 6x01





	Permutations

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to see a bad version of Coulson. But also can philinda just be happy for one day please????

Melinda May swiftly moves through the empty hallways checking each room, gun sweeping in front of her. 

"Daisy report," Mack orders. 

"One sec," comes the breathless reply in her ear.

She waits a beat. Then two. Three. Four. Just as she lifts her hand - enough time had passed to cause a tug of worry - to the com in her ear Daisy responds. 

"Well there must be something in this hallway. That's about ten lmds so far for me," Daisy says, her panting breaths echoing.

"Aw you're having all the fun," Yo-Yo adds.

"May, how's it going on your end?" Mack's much deeper voice breaks through the comm. 

"Nothing yet," May responds, eyes peeled for any movement at all. 

Still a whole bunch of emptiness greets her, which is never a good thing. There hasn't been a single soldier in her sights since she split from Yo-Yo and Mack. She has a suspicion that the people here are aware of her presence and there will be a trap waiting for her. She'd never admit it out loud, but she's regretting going alone. 

All she could focus on these past few months was reacclimating herself back into the fight, so when they got the opportunity after months of training and tracking she jumped at it. And gave the suggestion without room for argument that Mack go with Yo-Yo instead of her. Mack was the director in name but he'd been so grateful to get her back that he automatically caved to her every whim.

Whether that decision was foolish remains to be seen. 

"Any sign of.... anything?" Simmons' hopeful voice breaks the silent comm line after another few minutes of inactivity. 

"Nothing promising," Mack says regretfully. 

"Unclear," she reports to Simmons. 

These days Simmons was filled with quiet anxiousness. Both in the search for frozen Fitz and their missing in action grandson.

Simmons was present, yet not, running herself raged with tracking down every possible lead to find her family. May could see the sheer exhaustion threatening to overtake her. But Simmons wouldn't stop, she knew that because the desperation to find and be with the person you loved was infinitely consuming. May knew the feeling all too well. 

Fitz had been gone for over a year now, so when they'd received a possible lead to the cromicons they jumped on it immediately. Which somehow lead them to this place. An old warehouse filled with dark hallways and eery silence. 

"Change of plans everyone....our friends are here too," Daisy suddenly says. 

Their friends the mercinaries that are out for Shield's blood with no clear motive except for seek, destroy, and wreak havoc. 

"You've got to be kidding me. Again?" Yo-Yo voices her displeasure. 

The mercinaries continue to conveniently show up everywhere Shield seems to be interested in. She's beginning to suspect a mole inside the new group of recruits. 

"All of them?" Mack asks and with it comes the heavy weight of what he's really asking.

It's the one clear advantage the mercinaries have over Shield. The reason for their continued complications during missions. They have _him_. No one can bring themself to say his name. 

"I can't tell. They've got a lot of firepower though," Daisy answers, much quieter this time. 

Melinda pauses, leaning against the nearest wall, feeling like the ground has just given out from under her. She isn't prepared for this. Not again. 

"Can you handle it?" Mack asks concerned yet openly allowing Daisy to judge the situation herself. 

"For now but I'll keep you posted," Daisy replies confidently. Melinda believes her. So many times before when faced with personal tragedy Daisy had been plagued with a serious case of reckless disregard for her own safety. Making self-sacrificial moves and isolating herself were her prime qualities when Lincoln died. But this time she seemed to be coping in healthy ways with their losses. There was a determination that coming from her that Melinda had never seen before. 

"May...." Mack sighs, then trails off.

When she returned from Tahiti there was an air of awkwardness that descended everytime she entered an occupied room. Conversations came to startling halts. The new recruits watched her every move without a hint of subtlety. That she expected and was able to ignore for the most part. After years of coping with what happened in Bahrain she was used to people staring at her, but with the team it was different. Yo-Yo could barely meet her eye. Daisy never seemed to have any time to talk due to her laser focus.

Mack was tentative with her, never bringing up Phil or what happened when she was gone. The only time he asked was when she first came back and even then he could barely get the words out. There was the guilt for taking the job from Phil, which wasn't anything Mack should actually be guilty about but it was obvious that's how he felt. Mack had completely thrown himself into the job no matter the cost to his personal relationships. 

He didn't know how to talk to her normally anymore, especially when he was supposed to give her orders. 

There could be any number of things he could say to her now. He could tell her to get back to the Quinjet, tell her she's too compromised to be here, tell her to meet up with him, but he doesn't say any of those things. 

Instead he continues softly, "Be careful. Don't hesitate to pull out." 

She swallows past the lump in her throat. "Copy that." Her fingers shake as she lowers them from her comm.

"Fancy meeting you here." A distinctly familiar voice floats through the air, coming from behind her. 

She freezes in place. 

The voice climbs her spinal column like a spider and it's eight hairy legs, sending shivers throughout her body. It used to be the exact opposite: causing nothing but warmth, comfort, and love to flow through her. That dream had sailed months ago. Instead she'd come face-to-face with this new nightmare. 

Distrust doesn't even begin to cover how she feels about this man. 

Her hands instinctively tighten around the gun in her grip as she quickly spins around to confront him. 

There he is. 

Phil. 

Phil Coulson. 

Correction: Phil Coulson, but not her Phil Coulson. 

He stands at the end of the hall blissfully unaware of her weakness. 

Even after multiple run-ins with him the sight of him standing and breathing feels like a sledgehammer striking her entire body. 

Her knees are hit first with a quiver, next her throat as it tightens up, and last - always last - her heart as it's crushed into dust. 

His hands stay comfortably placed in his jacket pockets. There's a sparkle in his eye and a grin on his face. He has not a care in the world. And no recognition whatsoever. All of their history has snapped out of existence for him. 

It's as if the universe wanted to give her another fuck you.

"No need for violence," he says as his eyes calculate her next move like a veteran Shield agent. Even though he isn't one. She knows that he's not because this man - who sounds and looks like Phil Coulson - is an enemy of shield. 

They know very little about him and the ragged group of mercinaries that he runs with. Only a short time had passed since the group popped up on Shield's radar and with it bizarre anomalies all over the globe. Loss of time. Gravity storms. Displaced matter. All events stranger than they've ever seen before. 

Unexplained phenomena not attributed to inhuman activity - no explanation at all except for the group of mercinaries. The only coincidence between the events: Them, the nameless group of criminals.

They'd gone from place to place, popping up and disappearing with a flick of the wrist. Clearly they were a group of highly specialized and trained people backed up by an arsenal of advanced weaponry and motivated by unknown reasons.

Shield is still clueless as to what they want, where they're from, and who they are. They don't exist in any database. There's no information or history on any of them. It's like they're from another planet altogether. 

Judging by the bits and pieces of the recently destroyed Zephyr One, the clear disgust for Daisy, and the violent assaults on the team it's safe to say they'd all become quick adversaries. 

He gestures to her gun. "Is that one real or another little stun gun?"

The amusement on his face is barely hidden. This situation is funny to him - that they're facing off once again. The last time they were in the same building together she'd shot him point blank with an icer and ran. 

"I don't know. You tell me when the bullet hits," she responds. Deep down she knows that she won't be able to bring herself to really hurt him if the time comes for it. Her only advantage is that he doesn't know that. At least, she hopes he doesn't. 

He chuckles. "In that case you should put it down." 

The smile that he flashes is all too familiar. She's seen it a thousand times before from her Phil. Usually, it causes a welcomed shot of warmth to run through her body. 

But this man standing before her isn't her Phil because her Phil is dead and buried in the ground right now. And he's been there for months. 

"Like hell I will," she growls, lifting the gun to point it at his face. She could at least put on a show - a distraction while she waits for backup. 

The weapon strapped to his leg is the only thing that causes her to hesitate. It's small, but packs a nasty punch unlike anything she's ever seen. All of the mercinaries seem to have one and it has the ability to melt through a thick metal wall within seconds. She doesn't want to think about what it would do to her body. 

The tech is clearly advanced, but she'd be willing to do almost anything to wipe the unbearable smirk off of his face. Her finger hovers, then settles on her own gun's trigger as she prepares to empty the chamber and narrowly miss him with each shot. That way maybe she could make a break for it. It would be a close call, but she doesn't have many options. 

"Come on. You don't want to hurt me," he says. Then adds, "Melinda." 

The way he says it cracks her heart into pieces. 

For a moment she forgets how to breathe.  
She pauses, her finger moving off of the trigger. It's the first time he's said her name. The first time she's heard it in months. The last time it was barely a whisper from his cracked lips. A memory too painful to get lost in now. 

He could be her Phil. It could be him saying it with all his gentleness and concern. If she closed her eyes she would be able to make it real. It would be all too easy for her to forget the truth. That this man is a cold blooded killer. That he's no good and probably rotten to the core. 

And that's what scares her. 

"Shut up!" she snaps, lashing out at him. He had no right to call her that. No right to make her feel this way. 

"Trust me," he says slowly, genuinely, like he knows exactly what he's doing to her. 

Maybe he does. Any one of their previous interactions would've alluded to that fact that she let her guard down around him. 

The first time they met he would've killed her if Yo-Yo hadn't been there to knock his gun to the side. The second time they came face-to-face sans weapons she let him live because she was just too weak to follow through with her duty. 

She can't hurt him. It seems to be painfully obvious at this point. And he clearly isn't a stupid man. 

Each time they meet she tells herself this is all too good to be true, being civil with him is just a game of pretending - prolonging the inevitable. There could be no trust with this man. She does not know him. Even though he has Phil's face, voice, and mannerisms he is not Phil. 

They are enemies and nothing more. They are on clashing sides. The crew that he's with wants to kill her. Even he wants to kill her. 

The mission comes first. 

"Why would I ever trust you?" She asks while setting up her target just above his left shoulder. 

"Seems like you don't have much of a choice." He moves quickly, producing a second, smaller gun from his jacket pocket, and firing off a shot that sizzles past her ear. 

She turns around in time to see the orange bolt of light pass through several soldiers behind her, leaving gaping holes in their bodies. The bodies grow stiff and shudder to the ground as they spark from the damage to the machinery. 

Lmds. 

Beyond that, an even larger group of lmd soldiers approach, steadily marching towards her. 

On instinct she unleashes all of her rounds into the soldier closest to her. They barely scuff it's chest. Her gun might as well be shooting streams of water because the lmd's pace does not slow. The click of her gun signals that she's out of bullets. 

A sudden heat brushes her face. Another flash of light zooms past her, hitting the LMD. The head is blown off, leaving wires sparking at the neck. 

Her cheek slightly burns. She turns to glare at Phil, eyes narrowing to slits. 

Trails of smoke swirl from the barrel of his gun. "Metal piercing tech. I'm guessing Shield doesn't have any yet?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" She snaps. 

He brushes off her hostility. "No reason to be jealous." 

"Unless you have an unlimited supply on you I don't think its going to matter," she informs him quickly. Backing away from the Lmds, she's able to dodge the blows. But it also means that she's getting closer to Phil. 

"Watch out!" He rams into her from behind, pushing her sideways. The trajectory has her colliding with the wall, his chest firmly pressing into her back. For a moment they breath heavily together, his hands fall to her hips. A jolt shoots through her entire body at the familiarity. He's gentle and holds her steadily, shielding her momentarily. 

Warning bells ring in her head. 

Too close and too much.

Her shoulders tense up and she shoves him off.

"What are you doing?" She hisses. He could've taken the distraction and ran to save himself. Now he's in the same predicament she's in and he's a fool for it. 

"Trying to help you not get killed! I thought that was pretty obvious."

"I don't need your protection." She doesn't need his help. The only thing he's good at is being a thorn in her side. 

"I strongly disagree," he says. The smirk finds it's way to his face again, telling her that he's enjoying this situation too much. 

A massive weight plows into her stomach. All the air forced out of her lungs within seconds. Once when she was eleven she'd joined an ice hockey game with a group of older boys. One had the bright idea to drive the end of his stick into the bottom of her ribcage to discourage her from playing. The internal ache now feels much like that. 

With a shot from Phil's gun, the lmd goes down.

"Oh bet that hurt, good thing you didn't ask for my protection on that one," he calls out. 

Her first reaction is to send a sharp stare his way, but then she thinks better of it. The attention and bickering is exactly what he wants. 

Appearing at her side, he dangles his second gun in front of her face. "If you insist on refusing my help at least accept this." 

Taking it would be the equivalent of accepting defeat. 

She shakes her head. "I don't want anything from you."

All of her instincts tell her to run as far away from him as possible. 

_Get away from him_. 

_Find the others_. 

"Mack," she calls into her comm and bolts to the nearest door. When she tests the handle it fails to open. Without hesitation, she uses the side of her body to bang into the metal. It doesn't budge. Her shoulder pangs painfully. 

No one answers her call.

"This isn't the time for pride, Melinda. Just take it!" He waves the gun in her line of sight again.

There's no choice. She either takes the gun or she'll die here. Deep down, she knows it's the only option. There are some things that can't be done alone no matter how much she would prefer them to be. 

She rips the gun from his hand. "It's Agent May to you!" 

Squeezing the trigger, she takes down a few more Lmds. It isn't as powerful as the gun in his grip, but it gets the job done.

"You know I'm a bit offended you haven't even asked for my name," he says. 

It freezes her momentarily. He always had the worst timing. With everything. Maybe we could get a drink. She was with Andrew. Kisses her when he's dying. Loving her when he's dead. And this, she doesn't know how to respond.

At this point she'd rather not know his name. Because that meant there was history from wherever he came from. That meant he wasn't hers and she wasn't prepared to face that right now. 

Just when she thinks they're gaining a somewhat even footing the door that she'd tried opening just minutes before opens and more soldiers pile out. 

Dozens of soldiers enter the hall like there's an endless supply of them. More and more from every direction. It fills her with dread. They'll be overrun very soon. 

They're fighting a losing battle with no exit plan. 

"Not now you piece of shit!" Phil yells, frustration lacing his tone. His gun goes soaring through the air and bounces off the shoulder of one of the soldiers to her right. 

So much for his impressive tech, she thinks. 

Backing into the only clear corner left, their arms brush together. 

"I think we're in trouble here," he says. 

It's so obvious she doesn't dignify the comment with a response. 

There's no time. One lapse and the lmds will be within arm's reach. 

The marching lmds enroach upon their space. A hundred versus the two of them. Any route of escape is cut off. 

The gun runs out of shots. She pistol whips one in the face mask. It barely makes a dent against the seemingly indestructible outer layer. 

Hands are on her from all directions. Fists fly in a desperate last ditch effort to fight them off. 

Something tugs at her scalp, tightly gripping a fistful of hair. 

All she can feel is pain as her face meets the unforgiving metal wall. 

Then darkness. 

////

**Author's Note:**

> Might come up with some more to write....


End file.
